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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539969">Bounce</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wetkitty420/pseuds/wetkitty420'>wetkitty420</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Led Zeppelin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Friendship, Masturbation, damaged people</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:49:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>541</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539969</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wetkitty420/pseuds/wetkitty420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Page St James is the only woman in her band</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jimmy Page/Robert Plant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bounce</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The details of his dream were melting away into the gray drone of the hotel air conditioner. Robert was aware of being awake, and aware that something had woken him.</p><p>“Robbie”</p><p>Her voice was small. He looked up in time to see Page shucking off her shirt and pants. For a second he saw her pale body in the dark. Brittle ribs, dark nipples, messy bloom of hair between her legs. </p><p>He held back the covers for her. </p><p>Her hands were under his shirt right away. Wiry and grasping, they found his skin, and then awkwardly moved lower. He flinched when they touched his soft cock. He caught them and brought them up to her chest, gently pinning her. </p><p>She huffed and wiggled free.</p><p>Sometimes he let her, sometimes he even went down on her, but only if everything was well. He always let her do this, though, he felt she had a right to.</p><p>She pulled away to lay on her back, kicked one leg over him. In a moment he could hear a wet click click click as she put her hands to work. </p><p>As her breathing started to speed up, he remembered how in awe of her he had been when they first met. That night they went back to her house and listened to records, chatting like two school friends, had seemed too good to be true. But there had been part of him that could not accept it at face value, part of him had to sniff her out. </p><p>He remembered his hand on the small of her back, how it hadn’t felt supple. Her response, involuntary and all wrong. He could still see her green eyes darken as the pupils opened wide for him. Her sweat, her fear. There was just something not in her, no room for it amidst the clutter of genius. </p><p>He wasn’t used to feeling guilty. </p><p>He thought of the nights he heard her thrashing around her hotel room. Her weeping was multilayered, ecstatic, the polar opposite of her orgasms.  </p><p>Or the nights when Jones would say “Look, Pagey’s pulled” and the girl would be pretty but wrong somehow, fae. At first he would congratulate her, but he came to see there was something wicked in it. There would always be a little pain in her eyes, a shadow of what he had seen when he told her Maureen was pregnant. </p><p>But after a night like that, she played better. He saw how the songs grew and bloomed, she split each note in half, and in half again. Wands into forks into ferns into flowers. No one could say she wasn’t a genius. Being untouchable gave her some armor, at least, against being untouched.  </p><p>She tensed and shuttered beside him.</p><p>For a while they lay there, and he knew she was just as likely to get up and leave, but he held his arm up anyway.</p><p>She nestled back into him, pressing her small breasts into his chest. Her sticky hand came up to find the beauty mark on his shoulder that she liked to worry as she fell asleep. He stroked her stiff back and she mumbled something against his neck. </p><p>He kissed her temple.</p><p>“You’re a good girl, Pagey”</p>
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